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Archive for February, 2007

The Great Pretender

Oh yes, I’m the great pretender
Pretending that I’m doing well

I’m lonely but no one can tell


I play the game but to my real shame
You left me to dream all alone

I was “saved” in a pentecostal church. I say it that way because I had been saved before and technically, I was born into the faith. But we switched churches fairly frequently after we left the Catholic church and before we found the church I would spend over a decade of my life in — and much more of my life dealing with. And my life was pretty good when I was saved but I did find a few things which bothered me about the faith. Eventually, these things led me to study apologetics. Apologetics only made me less satisfied with the answers I was given.

After a long period or painful reflection, I knew I could no longer call myself a Christian. The epiphany came suddenly enough to shock me but was easy to see in retrospect. This was a terrible moment in my life. My entire life was tied up with the church. When I was not at school, I was at chuch or hanging out with friends from church. I was not permitted to go anywhere else. When I believed, this did not matter because I was at church 5-7 days a week so I didn’t feel alone or secluded. But now I had to deal with this sudden apostasy. And worse, I didn’t even know what to tell people I was.

After a little thought, it was clear that I could not reveal my change of faith. Now that I was outside the mindset, I was suddenly aware that much church was dangerous in a very physical manner. And I feared I would be hurt or possibly killed by good intentioned people trying to bring me back. This was not a silly fear as I was to learn later in life. So I kept it quiet and just started playing the game. I had to keep up the image and I did well at it. I never even allowed myself to whisper my real thoughts to myself when I was alone at night. The words were strictly confined to my head. I had a growing collection of books on religion and other faiths. A few I was able to pass off as Christian and the rest had to be hidden. If they were discovered, they would be burned and I would be accountable for having had them. I lived in constant fear of things of mine being thrown into a fire. It happened, even as cautious as I was, often enough. But not enough to raise real suspicions and usually with trivial “forbidden” things like cards or tapes.

I had kept a journal for the period up to my apostasy and for a while after. Eventually, I threw that into a fire for myself. As a symbolic means to finally accept that I wasn’t going back and of letting go. That was still long before I stopped pretending.

Years of my life, spent with arms raised to a God that I knew wasn’t there. Pretending to believe things I didn’t… raising money to go on missions trips to bring a lie to people who needed something more substantial… leading people to accept a God I had rejected years before. A terrible time, a cowardly time, of my life. Eventually, I was leading the boy’s group at the church and serving in other positions. And wondering how deep the rabbit hole went before I had to draw the line. And I almost had to draw the line before I left home. As a matter of principle, I refused to become an official member of the church. This went unnoticed for a long time as people just assumed I had already joined and the people who knew didn’t really care to press the issue.

When that came up and I was told to join, my refusal caused quiet a stir. My stubborness paid off, just barely, and I made it to college without being an official member of the church. It was my one small victory from that time. Of all the losses that I suffered, I take that one win as my own.

In college, I was able to really be myself. That was fantastic. But I still had to be my other person at home or when family came to visit. My friends, the closer ones, all heard why and understood. I think a few may have doubted how serious the matter could be. Finally, the summer of my 21st birthday, I decided to come clean about my leaving Christianity. I am 21 years old… it’s been seven or eight years since I last called myself a Christian… and it was a disaster. I never really got far in explaining it. They didn’t want to hear and suddenly I found myself in a situation I could not control. I ended up in a camp to be reconverted. Another horrible period. And one where I realized just how deep the apostacy went because there were times that I really wanted to go back but just couldn’t do it. They could break me… and they did (I am ashamed to say) but they couldn’t break that. After a week, I went back to pretending for my family. It would be almost three more years before I was able to come out and stay out.

I had to move back home to afford finishing college. Even working full time it wasn’t possible otherwise. But I ensured that I worked nights and Sundays to avoid the church issue. And no one pressed it — I think they preferred to not know. Eventually my mother unconvered my new collection of books. It was obvious to her, from the varied contents, that no Christian could have such books. She called me at work… where I had almost a full on nervous breakdown. But I wasn’t going to lie. I didn’t let her know how badly I was shaking… only a friend of mine who was visiting me at work saw that. And he had no idea what was going on. I admitted I wasn’t saved and told her I would get my stuff and be out of her house within a day.

I think she panicked because she knew I was serious. She didn’t want to lose me so she backed down. She would not talk about it for months. And even now (years late) it’s still a very taboo subject. But most people in my personal life know it. I still keep it “officially” quite professionally because I could lose my job over it.

I will never go back to Christianity. I might visit a church, once in a while. But I will never go back.


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A Journey Through Many Churches

It almost sounds as if I have lived many life times, but I have only lived one that I know of on this planet earth.  I’ll begin by saying that none of the churches I have attended were exempt from notice of incorrect use of bibical doctrine, and they each had several things in common. 

One thing in particular they all seemed to have in common is that they all had their own agendas which had little or nothing to do with God’s word.  Two, they each had their own way of distorting the bible truths to match their creative abilities and dreams and wishes for life dedicated to meet their cause while ignoring scripture they just had little depth and knowledge of how to apply properly.  And lastly, but not least, some of them were just after everyone’s money, while others are still holding on to the Old Testament teachings, and have no understanding of the New Testament writings.

Church has become a place where people control each other, and decide what others must do for salvation, or it becomes a place where people can do whatever they want and still be considered in a saved position with God.  They go from one extreme to another, but never ending up on God’s side.  Church leaders are to blame for all this, because they are the ones who make up their man made rules and then demand that people follow them or else threaten them into believing they will lose their salvation if they are unwilling or unable to comply to the wishes of the church leaders.

Chruch leaders today are not much different from the Pharisees who were prideful, conceited, hypocrites, who pretended to be angels of light but were wolves in sheeps clothing who lie to people because they love money.  Any well meaning Christian worshiper will find they must leave church and believe in what Jesus said about church, that God’s temple is not a man made building, but a place in the hearts of men who have the indwelling of God’s spirit, and who know the truth.  Where two or three are gathered, there Jesus will be with them.

Thanks for letting me share my thoughts.       


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It was all about a small group controlling the larger group of members

When I was in high school (just over 20 years ago), I was pretty religious.  I was a member of a Presbyterian PC(USA) church in Northern NJ.  When I was a high school junior, I was ordained as a deacon in that church.  That same year, I was a YAD (Youth Advisory Delegate) to the Synod of the Northeast meeting.  I then became the youth member of Synod Mission Council and the Synod Nominating Committee.  At the same time, I was involved in Camp Johnsonburg (the local Presbyterian church camp) as a camper, CIT (Counselor in Training) and a full-time counselor.  I also went to the Presbyterian Youth Triennium during those years.

Right about the same time, I went to college at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, NJ (the state U of NJ).  I started taking religion classes and computer science classes, intending one to be my major and the other to be my minor.  I was thinking that seminary could be in my future.

Then, a few things happened.  On campus, I got hooked up with an extremely conservative chapter (”you can’t be friends with Jews unless you’re trying to convert them”) of a conservative Christian campus organization.  That only lasted two months, ending after a cult-like weekend retreat.

After that, I experienced some disturbing events at Synod-level meetings involving racism and politicking in a church organization.  In one case, a minister chose to “renounce the jurisdiction of the church” at a Synod Mission Council meeting because a decision of that body had gone against him (to fund a program).

In the other case, I was serving as the youth member of Synod Mission Council.  One organization that reported to the annual Synod meeting was the Committee on Representation (which was responsible for making sure that all Synod committees, boards, etc were balanced along racial, clergy/lay, and gender lines).  The minority woman who headed that group made her speech praising the Synod for having all groups properly balanced.  Then she chose to complain that the Youth Advisory Delegates were not racially balanced.  That particular year, all but one of the YADs were white (in my opinion totally by coincidence - the YADs had been racially mixed in other recent years).  A 15-year-old Youth Advisory Delegate from the presbytery covering the Northern New England area rose and stated that the reason that her presbytery (which only contained one mainly-minority church) was because they didn’t find any minority youth who was “interested and qualified”.  The word “qualified” in this instance referred to the fact that the one minority church in that presbytery had a pastor who required youth to write a 5-page essay in order to be submitted to the nominating committee - the result being that nobody wanted to fill out the essay.  The committee chair then said something along the lines of “I can’t believe that I just heard a racist statement on the floor of this Synod.”  The girl fled the floor in tears.  I and the current and former chairs of the Racial/Ethnic Concerns Team decided that this was unfair, and we met the Committee chair coming off the podium.  We told her that she needed to apologize to the girl.  We went back behind the divider to the area “off the floor” in the gym and met the girl who was sitting on the bleachers crying, being comforted by the youth chaperones.  The committee chair said to her, “I’m sorry that you’re upset, but I hope that you understand why what you said was racist.”  We (the R/E team members and I) decided that this was the closest thing to an apology that we’d get and let the chair go and comforted the girl.

Additionally, my home church had a cabal of leaders who were unwilling to give up power.  There was an unwritten rule that nobody under the age of 40 would be elected as an elder.  On top of that, the elders tended to serve their maximum 6 years and then spend a year on the nominating committee, which (surprise) submitted their names for election the following year.

All of that led me to believe that church was a place where a small number of people in power used the structure to control the behavior of a large number of people.  This control was not particularly Godly, but rather of human origin with the accompanying pettiness.

I had already resigned my post as a deacon because of distance issues at college (it’s hard to serve at a worship service 50 miles away when you don’t have a car).  I resigned my Synod posts and essentially left the church.  I filled out my religion minor with eastern religion classes.

About a year later, I ran into an officer of Presbyterians for Lesbian and Gay Concerns (now part of More Light Presbyterians).  They were looking for someone to serve as their liaison to Presbynet (a part of Ecunet - a discussion network for church issues).  I agreed with their cause, and began helping them for about 5-6 years as a supportive straight person.  This ended when again I ran into human politics and found myself being called homophobic due to my support of one strategy over another.  I turned my responsibilities over to another and left that service.  Thus ended my church career.

About 15 years later, I have searched for and rejoined another church.  I hope that I will be able to avoid the problems that caused me to leave previously.


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30 years a prisoner of the Church

It’s Sunday morning-very bright  sun streaming through the high windows of a very strict, fundmentalist cult-like demonination’s Sunday School–everybody but us are headed start to Hell, ha, ha, ha! I decided on this particular Sunday as the teacher was talking and the Bible was open that what she saying and what it said were different. So I decided then and there “I don’t believe in God”.  I also decided if I ever believed in God, I’d believe what the Bible said not what man said. It has taken me 50 years to realize what I didn’t believe in was the ”church” not in God.

From that day for the next 13 or so years I went the church every Sunday because I was required to. I was baptized in water at 12 because every body would wonder if I didn’t.  I went to one of the demoninations colleges and took all the Bible courses. To the college because I was made to “it will straighten her out”. I took Bible courses because I was looking for God. I challenged all my professors with questions and made the highest score ever made on the Bible entrance exam. Finally, because my questions were disrupting to classes, they let me take the courses that thier “preacher boys” took. The President of the college had to approve because this demonination doesn’t believe that women should “usurp authority over a man” and a female taking theology was unheard of in 1966.

I left that college after 2 years and went to a major university. “To become a psychologist, to save the world” because I knew it needed saving. At the “Christian college” I had a drinking buddy, he had gone to the university a semester before me. He introduced me to his roommate. The roommate was a believer. He fell for me and we married. He told me years later that he had to pray and pray for guidance before marrying an “unbeliever”.

 After several years I was saved, we were attending a “house church” in 1972. I would term them now as missional, then they accepted me when I didn’t even like them, they had agenda at the time and just lived their lives one day at a time.

 In 1974, a job transfer moved us to a litte conservative town in the northern part of Alabama. We looked for a church for months, then were “lead” to a ”church plant” for a major Pentecostal demonination. Far cry from our little house church. We were the first family, outside the 3 founding families, to become a part of it. When we came there were 14 people including 8 children. We stayed, over the years worked and taught and lead and did whatever needed to be done and God grew the church. While at the church, I grew and learned. Over all these years I continued to study the Word and truthfully many times had to put things that didn’t square between the church and the Word on a shelf. My husband felt this was where we were to be, that settled that.

Over the years from 1974 to 1998 the church had only 3 pastors. The first 2 were elevated within the demonination and hence left us. My husband and I continued to work and loved the people and the things we were lead to do. The 3rd pastor was different, had little respect for the Word seemed more interested in how things looked. He left for a “better opportunity”. The church was pastorless for 6 months and grew. At the time we had a base of about 120 regular members and 150 who came in and out.

 Then the “bishop” decided we needed a pastor. He brought one in from California.  One month after the new pastor came, my husband died. For the first 6 months the pastor seemed ok, but didn’t seem to know the Word. Also, he started calling his wife co-pastor. No one on the church board was consulted about this. Nor when they cancelled Sunday night services and removed the cross from behind the pulpit. From June 1998 until March 2003, lots of things changed and lots of people left.

Because of the death of my husband for 4 of those years I was in a fog. After about 4 years I started addressing concerns about sermons and other issuses with the pastors. They were now called co-pastors. Several families left because the female pastor accused them of “threatening me and my children” Sermons began to be stories and often times the Word was never read. Prayer was banished as was communion. My questions were answered with, “you know you are still mourning and aren’t seeing things clearly”. I knew I was “seeing things clearly”. I went often to them, I did whatever they suggested and spent time and effort in trying to support the “pastor’vision”. The church went from loving and accepting to “if you don’t agree with what comes from the pulpit you can leave”. This was said about every Sunday from the pulpit. They had a “prophet” come in who preached “Pastor’s words–Word of God or matter of opinion”.  Also, “Are you a son or a servant?” The idea being a son supports the Father(pastor), a servant is a hireling and doesn’t support the pastor. When I went and addressed these concerns directly, I was told don’t worry just submit. I did so for several more months. During this time, friends, people who I had fellowshipped with since 1974, stopped talking to me and would walk away when I approached them. Also, the pastor came to me and said, “I don’t allow any one to threaten my wife or my children” and  “if you want to continue to attend here you are not to talk to anyone and not come near my wife or kids.” I remained for about 6 more months, the last straw was during a visit from the above mentioned “prophet”. During this “revival” the female pastor grabbed a young girl who had never attended the church before and had the “leaders” hold her down because she had “demons”.  The girl had quietly go forward during the altar call. The teenager and her mother were horrified. They ran from the building when they let her loose. This prophetl atter called for the “leaders” of the church to show their support for the pastor by carrying him around the church on their shoulders and proclaiming praise for him and his wife. Some of the “leaders actually did this.  I left after the next Sunday. I told 2 families that I had loved and that never stopped talking to me that I was leaving. Telling them I didn’t know where I was going or really why. Truthfully, at the time I didn’t. I believed at the time a Christian must attend and be submitted to a church. During the next 3 years I went from one church to another and settled in 2 for at least 6 months each. Never felt right. I read and prayed and studied and worked in these churches. I went to a church conference during this time on Servant Evangelism. The pastor of the sponoring church told us about a man in the church who had attended for 3 years and came to him wanting to know “who is this Jesus that I hear mentioned every once in a while”. The man was a dentist and this pastor thought it was funny that someone had attended his church for 3 years and had to ask about who is this, Jesus. I came home and I quit church. Never quit the Word. What I have found is that I thought the church and God were the same thing. I now have a life with God and attend a church. Where am I going? I don’t know, but I have learned that God is faithful and that His Word is truth. Shortly, after I quit church, I went on line one Sunday morning and googled “loving God and hating church”. From there I found out that I am not alone and that God and church are not the same. I had decided at 7 that I would believe the Word instead of man but it took me 50 years, 30 of them in the church to know the difference in worshipping God or worshipping the church.


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Thinking straight

I was raised Catholic, and attended Catholic schools through grade 12. My mother was Catholic, my father was Lutheran, and to get the priest to marry them Dad had to agree that I would be raised Catholic. He wasn’t particularly religious, so that wasn’t a problem. In the ’60s and ’70s, the Catholic schools where I lived were progressive, teaching a liberal, nonliteralist, love-thy-neighbor-most-important version of the faith. The Bible, and its inconsistencies with itself and with science, was mostly ignored. In fact, I got a damn good science education.

But, starting in the early grades and dogging me into adulthood was a pervasive sense of self-doubt. I knew I was ugly, because I was fat, and I knew I was stupid, even though I inexplicably got very good grades. It was just a matter of time before the rest of the world discovered what scum I was.

In college I met my future husband, who’d been raised in an evangelical tradition. Neither of us was particularly religious; he seldom went to church while we were in college, and I attended sporadically. We married soon after graduation in the student Catholic center, not a parish church. Within a year I started feeling a strong desire to reconnect with God. I had a new job, and the self-doubt was reaching anxiety levels. God wasn’t answering my prayers, so maybe I wasn’t close enough to him. Husband had attended one Catholic service with me, and was apalled at what he called “ritual”, so we started attending a local nondenominational Christian church.

Wow! This was an evangelical church, and the sermons spoke to my heart. I WAS scum! I only existed because of the intense grace of God. (That everybody else was imperfect, too, and needed the grace of God, was a message I only heard distantly.) Often I would cry during the sermon, feeling like such a failure. Everyone else in my church-world was accomplished, admitted (infrequent) failures easily, accepted the grace of God, and reveled in the blessing of Jesus. All I felt was wave upon wave of despair. I was worthless. I was complete scum. How did these Jesus-centered people not see it? I must not be capable of accepting the grace of God, because I sure wasn’t feeling it.

Eventually my husband refused to go to church any more, saying he couldn’t stand to see me cry every Sunday and it wasn’t worth his time. I stopped going too. But of course, the self-doubt and despair intensified. I was suffering from depression, and had been for years. But untreated depression gets worse as one gets older.

Finally, circumstances I couldn’t ignore got me into treatment for my depression. After it was stabilized by medication, and I’d had several therapy sessions to teach me how to bypass my automatic mental self-flagellation, I began to think about religion, my belief system, and various other belief systems carefully. I realized that my many years of despair had nothing to do with my proximity to God, but I also had no ability to find joy in religion.

Finally I asked myself, why am I looking to find joy in religion? I decided that Husband was right, and much of Catholic practice WAS silly ritual. The doctrine of the evangelical church was downright poisonous. My mother was a devout Catholic, but her praying was mostly an attempt to manage her anxiety about various aspects of her life. My father, and indeed all his Lutheran relatives, regarded church as a place to congregate with friends and have potlucks.

In fact, when I started thinking about the evidence for any God, I kept coming up short. I could find nothing but anecdote, and my depression had taught me that personal anecdotes are worthless; personal sense of spiritual matters is subjective and subject to the whims of brain chemistry. My conclusion was that there was no good evidence for God, and that religion had injected pain into my life. At that point, I abandoned the former as non-existent, and the latter as a dangerous practice.

So, what gives me joy? The universe itself! I am awed by the great beauty of the cosmos, and of life, and the processes that sustain it. The awe I feel when I think about how the mountains around me were formed, or the fantastic forms of life that have occurred over hundreds of millions of years, just fills me so I think I’m about to burst. That I’m a part, evan a microscopically tiny part, of all of this is inspiring.

And what gives me my rules to live by? The love-thy-neighbor teachings of my Catholic school. Not because it’s ingrained, but because, as a now-psychologically-robust human, respecting others is just part of my evolutionary makeup. We humans are social creatures. We are empathic, capable of appreciating others’ pain, and so desire to relieve it. We also understand that our actions affect our group, and that actions against members of the group are often actions against the group itself. Attempting to love ALL my neighbors on this big planet is impossible, but I like challenges and It’s worth a try.


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